


Decisions Decided

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, M/M, Mental Health Issues, My First Work in This Fandom, Possibly OOC, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Schizophrenia, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, difficult conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Josh and Chris talk about their emotional baggage.





	Decisions Decided

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ragtag_slyboots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragtag_slyboots/gifts).

> _Disclaimer: The opinions of the characters do not reflect the opinions of the author. Mental health is a touchy subject, so please read this at your own discretion._
> 
> Title comes from Charlie Allen’s _Eulogy_
> 
> Josh lives AU!! Because I can!! Josh makes it to the house with the rest of the survivors and is subsequently rescued at dawn.

“You were gonna kill me,” Josh says quietly, out of the blue one day when Chris is visiting him in the psychiatric ward he’s been staying in. The mountain had taken its toll on all of them, certainly, but for Josh, the nightmare had been far from over even when dawn had broken and they’d all been taken back home. 

Chris blinks behind his glasses, too taken-aback to reply right away. At first, he isn’t sure what Josh is referring to. It’s crazy, but now that it’s been a few weeks, the whole  _ we nearly got murdered by Wendigos  _ thing feels like it was all just a crazy dream. That whole night is an adrenaline-fueled blur that he has insofar refused to relive. 

“It’s a valid option, don’t get me wrong,” Josh continues when Chris doesn’t say anything. He smiles a sad, lopsided smile. “You know I’d kill me, too, if I could. Hell, I’ve  _ tried.”  _

It’s too casual, too nonchalant, especially with so many nurses flitting around the little table they’ve claimed for themselves in the common area. Nobody reacts, though, so Chris tries not to look overly concerned. 

“And either way, I was gonna ‘die’.” This is the first time that Josh has mentioned  _ that night,  _ and Chris both wants to shake him until he stops and prompt him to continue. “The thing, the—“ Josh makes a vague spinning motion with one hand. “—the saw, y’know? It was rigged. Even if you’d picked Ashley, it would’ve hit me instead.”

“Josh—“

Josh isn’t looking at him. In fact, Josh seems to be looking anywhere  _ but  _ at him. “No, Chris. I need to get this off my chest, okay?”

Chris stares at Josh for a half-second, taking in the way his head is hanging, the way he’s picking at the tablecloth with his thumb and forefinger. He presses his lips together resolutely. “...okay.”

“I know it was stupid.” Josh stops picking at the tablecloth and runs his hand through his already-messy hair. “I  _ know  _ it was fucked up. I— I was really fucked up, Cochise.” He laughs, humourlessly. “I still am, but that’s beside the point. But there was this…” Josh stumbles with his words, and even though Chris can’t really see his face, he can see enough to catch sight of Josh’s lips working to find the right configuration to say aloud. “...I thought—” he finally says. “—that if I made you choose between me and Ashley, and you chose me, that it might fix stuff between us, and that everything would be okay once I finally told you guys what was going on, because I’d know you still wanted to be my buddy, y’know?”

In some really, really fucked up way, Chris  _ can  _ see the logic. It’s misguided and uncalled for and a little disgusting, but… he can see it. Losing his sisters had taken a huge toll on Josh. They all knew it; Chris had reached out to Josh and been turned away enough times in the last year to vividly recall the sting of the sudden strange shift in their relationship. He’d missed Josh terribly. In some sideways way, it’s almost nice to know that Josh had missed him too, even if it hadn’t manifested itself all that well. 

Still… “You didn’t need a giant saw to know I still cared, man,” he says weakly, pushing his glasses up enough to pinch at the bridge of his nose. 

Josh lets out another one of those sad little laughs, and it tugs at Chris’ chest more than he cares to admit. “Yeah. Yeah, well… At the time, it seemed like the best decision,” he replies. He sounds so  _ remorseful,  _ like the guilt has been gnawing at him for decades. “I know it was fucked up.”

Chris considers that for a long moment, although it takes until Josh finally peeks up at him for him to compose himself enough to reply. “But I chose Ashley, with the…” He trails off, making the same vague spinning motion with his fingers that Josh had, and Josh bites his lower lip. 

“Yeah.”

“I want to tell you why,” Chris says, and the words come out more rushed than he means them to. It does manage to get Josh’s attention, though, because he looks up sharply. Curiosity and a dark look at Chris recognises as Josh’s self-loathing fight each other in his eyes. 

“...Yeah?”

Chris takes a deep breath, then lets it out again slowly. “Yeah.” He takes a pause to find himself, to try and bring himself back to the moment when he’d had to pull the lever and make the decision. Without thinking about it, his eyes fall closed. “I was fucking terrified,” he admits in a low voice. He leans forward a little without looking, and he hears the feet of Josh’s chair squeak on the linoleum flooring in response. “But Ashley was crying, and begging for her life, and she was struggling so hard to get out of there, and I couldn’t look at her and know that I’d hurt her. And then… you weren’t. You were struggling a little, but you didn’t seem like your heart was really in it, and I just… I don’t know, Josh. I’ve never had to make the decision to  _ kill someone  _ before, much less my best fucking friend.” Unwarranted, the panic he’d felt that night rises in his throat, choking him. He swallows hard, but the lump in his throat refuses to move, and he can feel his hands starting to shake. All he can see in the darkness behind his eyelids is the blade of the saw moving closer to Josh, the blood splashing from his body as the blade rips into his torso—

“Chris,” Josh says, and Chris rips his eyes open again. The expression on Josh’s face is careful, but his eyes are wide and honest. “You don’t have to do this, okay? I know I put you through Hell. I know I put everyone through Hell, but making you choose between—“ He makes a slicing motion across his neck, with the included sound effect to go with it. “—me or Ashley?”

There’s a weird tense moment, like they’re both going to say something and are waiting for the other to challenge the silence, but neither of them speak and the moment seems to pass. Chris exhales in a  _ whoosh.  _ “It was a little fucked up,” he agrees quietly. Josh nods and sits back in his seat again. 

It feels like they’re going to move on, but Chris isn’t quite done yet. He looks Josh in the eyes. “Stay alive for me, this time, okay?”

A myriad of emotions flurry across Josh’s features before a tiny, genuine-Josh grin settles there. 

“Yeah, alright,” he says. 

* * *

They don’t talk about the night on the mountain again after that. Or at least, Chris and Josh don’t. Josh mentions offhandedly that his therapy sessions are going well, and Sam informs Chris once Josh is out of the hospital that he’s making time for her, and that they’ve been talking things out one piece at a time. 

Josh makes time for him, too, which is different. It’s good! It’s definitely good. It’s just… different. 

Not having Josh in his life for a year and then suddenly playing video games with him every couple of days is a big change to adjust to. Chris will readily admit to missing it, though. It’s really, really nice to have Josh back.

They’re both sprawled over Josh’s bed playing Minecraft together when Josh finally brings it up again. He pushes his laptop to the side and flops onto his back so that his side is pressed against Chris’ leg. Chris doesn’t bother to move away. The weight against him is a comforting reminder that Josh is alive and well beside him.

“I’m so fucked up,” he says quietly. Chris glances up at him, then back at the tower he’s currently building. 

“What?”

Josh doesn’t move. “I’m so fucked up,” he repeats. “Why do any of you guys still put up with me?”

It takes Chris less than ten seconds to save and quit out of the game, and he shuts his own laptop with a click before setting it carefully on the floor. “Josh, you’re not—“

“Don’t give me that shit,” Josh interrupts, although he doesn’t sound angry. He just sounds tired, or  _ resolved,  _ maybe, like he’s already come to terms with this and just wants to be past it. “You killed me with a giant saw blade. I  _ made you  _ do that, man! Normal people don’t make their friends choose which friends they’re gonna kill, even if it’s fake!”

Chris pretends his stomach doesn’t twist uncomfortably at the reminder of That Night. “You weren’t on your meds.”

Josh groans and covers his face with both hands. “Like that’s an excuse. Normal people shouldn’t  _ need _ meds!”

It’s a bullshit argument, but it’s also not a conversation that Chris has ever actually  _ had  _ with Josh. They’d skirted around it, and Chris knew that Josh had been on a few different medications before That Night had happened, but this feels a little different from Josh faux-casually mentioning his depression. This feels… bigger. 

“So maybe you’re not normal,” Chris says. He wiggles around on the bed until he’s lying on his side facing Josh, pressed too close to him in order to avoid falling off of the twin-sized mattress. “That doesn’t make you fucked up.” Josh starts to speak, but Chris can’t hear him specifically because he raises his own voice to interrupt his protestation. “All it means! Is that you need medication. That isn’t the end of the world. And the fact that you  _ have  _ it makes you lucky.” He bumps his shoulder against Josh’s. “ _ And _ the fact that you take it makes you smart.”

Josh snorts dismissively. 

They’re both silent for a moment, listening to the calming sound of ambient Minecraft music floating out of Josh’s still-open laptop. Every few seconds, a pig snorts, which means that Josh had been hanging around their farm before he’d put his game aside. 

All at once, Josh turns onto his side, so that he’s facing Chris in return. Chris squints at him for a second, then removes his glasses awkwardly and holds them near his hip. The edges of Josh wind up a little blurry, but his face is as clear as day. 

“They diagnosed me with Schizophrenia when I was in the hospital this last time,” Josh blurts out. It’s not loud, but it does come out fast, so it takes Chris some time to parse together what he’s actually said. 

And then, his eyebrows raise up on his forehead in surprise. “Yeah?”

Josh blows out a sigh. This close, Chris can smell Oreos on his breath from the snack they’d eaten downstairs. “Yeah.” 

That feeling that this is somehow  _ bigger  _ than Josh’s casual mention of depression is back again, but it doesn’t feel nearly as oppressive as it did when the notion had first come about. If anything, Chris actually feels better with the knowledge, because at least now he  _ knows  _ what the hell is bothering Josh so badly. 

“That doesn’t make you fucked up,” Chris tells him. Josh frowns deeply. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s actually pretty much the definition of fucked up.”

Chris rolls over briefly so that he can set his glasses on Josh’s nightstand before rolling back to face Josh again. “No,” he says as he moves. “I don’t think it is, actually.” He’s peering at Josh, squinting just a little to keep the edges of his face in focus. “Tell me what it means to you.”

“What?” Josh asks. “To be fucked up?”

Chris shoves at Josh’s hip, then lets his hand rest there to keep Josh from falling off the bed. “No, come on. Schizophrenia. What does it mean?”

“It’s a mental illness that includes hallucinations and hearing voices,” Josh rattles off like he’s been waiting for the question. “Which makes me fucked up.”

Chris huffs out a frustrated breath. “Would you stop? Schizophrenia is a mental illness that includes hallucinations and hearing voices. Yes, okay. But it’s also a  _ mental illness,  _ which —unless something’s changed since I looked all this shit up for that paper I had to write senior year— means it isn’t something you can control. Or— it is, but you just need stuff like medication to help control it.” 

Josh looks away, so Chris wiggles ridiculously closer to get right up in his face. “Josh. Look at me.” He waits until he gets compliance, then meets Josh’s nervous gaze with his own firm one. “You’re not fucked up for having depression, or Schizophrenia, or for anything else you have or don’t have, okay? Whatever you’ve got going on in there—“ He removes his hand from Josh’s hip to rap gently on his forehead with a knuckle, earning a tiny smile and a swat from Josh. “—is going to be just fine, so long as you keep doing what you’re doing. You’re always going to be my best friend, alright? So stop talking shit about yourself, because that’s my best friend you’re talking shit about, and that’s not okay with me.”

“You’re such a dork,” Josh says after a moment, but he’s still smiling like he’s seen the light for the first time in a long time, so Chris isn’t at all offended. “...Thanks.”

Chris reaches over again and successfully gets a hand in Josh’s hair, mussing it where it had previously been nicely unmussed. “Awh, you’re welcome.”

“Hey, c’mon, man!” Josh laughs, batting without towards Chris’ hands without actually making contact. “I put shit in that this morning and everything!”

“You put shit in your hair?” Chris teases back, earning a groan from Josh as he flops onto his back again. “Gross.”

Josh is only on his back for a moment before he sits up, pushing his fingers through his hair to try and calm it before picking his laptop back up again. “You’re a shithead,” he retorts easily, earning a laugh from Chris in return. 

Just like that, the tension in the room is gone. Chris picks his own laptop back off of the floor and resumes his game, returning to the tower he’d been working on. When he glances over at Josh and watches him mouth things to himself as he plays, he can feel unfamiliarly familiar lightness curling up his chest that he hasn’t felt in months. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans.


End file.
